Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Iwake up cold. When my eyes creak open, the small hut is flooded with warm light sneaking through the gaps in the branches.
Rylan doesn’t lie beside me.
I sigh as I wrench myself up, sitting on the mattress and rubbing my eyes.
Last night was…real. Although it feels like a fever dream, I know it happened. I can still feel the ghost of Rylan’s touch on my skin. Though I can’t help but wonder why he’s not here next to me.
I move sluggishly as I walk over to the table, finding my corset that fell on the floor last night laid carefully on the small tabletop. I find myself wondering how much sleep Rylan got, if any.
I pull it on, lacing up the back with a few frustrated grunts before tying it in a bow and tucking the strings away. I can hear metal clashing outside and the sound of men's laughter.
When I push open the door, I see Rylan and Evander in almost the exact position they were in yesterday, but this time, the fire in their eyes is that of a challenge, not of disdain.
Rylan laughs as he spins around Evander, catching him off guard and tapping him on the shoulder with his sword. I find a big rock around the edge of their gathering and sit down, letting myself wake up as I watch them.
Both of them are shirtless, their upper bodies gleaming in the dappled morning light. It is beautiful watching Rylan move, his arm an extension of his mind as he leaves Evander trying to catch up with him.
“You have to think ahead,” Rylan says. “It’s no use merely swinging the weapon and hoping it lands.
” The group of men watching them pay close attention to every word from his mouth.
“You must anticipate what your opponent is going to do.” He grins as Evander swings his sword aiming for Rylan’s head.
Only Rylan dips down in time to lift his own broadsword up to tap the metal against Evander’s side. “Like that.”
I can’t help the way a smile creeps up my face as I watch him continue to dance circles around Evander, his feet quick and his movements assured.
My mind turns. He says he learnt this all in Ashewood, but he must have had a good tutor.
One cannot learn this level of skill on their own.
So, who taught him this? My mind catches on the memory that Eldermoor is home to The Royal Shields.
It is where they train to be the king’s guards, the training facility hugging the border of Rynwood.
“That took a turn since yesterday,” a young man comes to stand beside me. When I blink rapidly, he gestures towards where Evander is showing Rylan a bow and arrow. “Those two looked like they wanted to run their swords through each other’s backs yesterday.”
I smile as tilt my head. “It seems they both realised what fools they were being.”
He smiles as he settles on the rock next to me. “You are the healer, right?” he asks, his gaze assessing.
“Everleigh.” I hold my hand out.
“Toren,” he says before nodding towards Rylan and Evander again. “Fool number one is my brother.”
“Evander?” I turn to see the men again, and find Rylan’s gaze fixed on where Toren sits next to me.
Toren raises his brows. “Unfortunately.” I have to force my snort to stay concealed.
“I wanted to thank you,” he says. “For what you did for my mother. She seems better today.”
“It was no trouble,” I say. “I mean to go and see her soon.”
“You are a wonderful healer,” Toren says, his blue eyes shining bright. “You know, word of your skills has spread around here swiftly. I believe some of the women wonder if there is anything you can teach them before you leave.”
My ears lift as a smile curves my lips. “Of course,” I say. “There are many things I can teach them, at least the basic ingredients needed for simple aid.”
“I think they would appreciate that,” Toren smiles.
He seems the far opposite of his brother. Where Evander is closed off and cold, Toren simply seems warm.
I can feel eyes on me, and when my gaze flicks to where Rylan stands, his appreciative gaze is roaming all over me. Every single spark of desire that went dormant while I slept resurfaces with a mere look.
Rylan has always had an effect on me, but now that I have felt his searing kiss, it has tripled in intensity.
“Your husband?” Toren asks, following my gaze.
“Oh.” For a moment it slipped my mind that I am not alone. “No, not my husband. He is just…” I don’t have the words to explain what he is to me. I’m not entirely sure what last night meant, or if it meant anything at all.
“Yours in one way or another?”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “I suppose.”
I hear the whistle of something hurtling through the air before an arrow flies over my head and finds its target on a wooden board behind me.
My mouth falls open as I look to see Rylan holding the bow, a small smirk on his face and his sparkling gaze stuck on mine.
A boy behind him lets out a long whistle. “You are a good shot.”
There’s no doubt about that. Rylan sent the arrow right into the middle of the three circles painted on the board.
“That could have gone through my head,” I say as he wanders over to us.
His smirk just pulls further, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “If Evander was the one taking the shot, perhaps.”
I scoff. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”
“Keep pretending you don’t like it, Rosie,” he says as he leans over me, yanking the arrow out of the board before his mouth grazes the shell of my ear. “It’s endearing.” My cheeks tingle with heat.
Toren clears his throat before standing. “Perhaps I will see you later, Everleigh,” he says before giving Rylan a terse nod and disappearing.
Rylan takes his seat, and I stab my elbow into his side. “You scared him off.”
“Good,” he says, his fingers tracing the freckles on my arm.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t fight him. “That was Toren, Evander’s brother.”
Rylan’s head whips to where Toren was walking, his touch falling from my skin, but Toren is long gone. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” I shake my head. “He told me Iris seems to have improved already.”
“That is good news,” he says. Though I can hear the hint of disappointment hidden in his tone. I think perhaps both of us like the idea of being here. It feels almost like an entirely different world from the one that awaits us outside these walls.
But that world is the one we belong to. The one we are tied to.
Though that doesn’t mean a small part of me wishes we could forget about all of it.
All the secrets and lies, and journals of mothers passed and mysterious vials.
Part of me aches to wash linens in buckets and watch Rylan swing a sword all day, nothing but simplicity.
But I don't think either of us was born for simplicity, nor for a life lived in hiding.
We do not hide. Hazel’s voice echoes in the chambers of my mind.
“I think I will go and check on her now,” I say as I stand.
He nods before saying, “I’m heading for some breakfast. I will fix you a plate.”
As I open my mouth to thank him, the sound of wheels echoes through the entry cave before August appears. He beckons to someone behind him before a short woman walks out of the dark, pulling a cart behind her.
It is piled with dried flowers and clinking crates, as if they are full of jars. My gaze catches on one filled with journal upon journal. The woman wears an apron slung around her neck and flowers embedded in her hair. And though I’ve never seen her before, somehow, she feels familiar.
“What are the chances that she is your apothecary?” Rylan says, his voice low.
My eyes roam over her fragile-looking figure and her determined gaze. “If the gods are watching over us,” I say, “she just might be.”
“I cannot thank you enough,” Iris says from where she sits in her bed. Her face is flooded with colour that was absent only yesterday.
I unwrapped the cloth wound around her hands a while ago, clearing away the honey and giving the burns time to breathe before I apply another layer. “The tea played a significant role in how you feel.”
“I suppose you will be on your way soon enough?” she inquires.
I smile subtly as I pull the small jar of honey from my medicine box. “Likely within the next day,” I say. “Perhaps tomorrow morning unless you need anything else from me. I will leave the honey with you.”
“Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “You have done enough, though I must admit it seems your presence here has been welcomed. The women are eager to learn from you, as am I.”
“I am eager to share what I know,” I say, dipping my clean fingers into the jar before applying it to her palms.
So much awaits me back in Sylvan, and I need to get back. I need to help the healers, and to scour through the history books for any mention of Arizaya. Perhaps I will find some kind of answer about the vials too.
It’s only now that I recall the first day I ever saw Mayor Hawthorne. He borrowed every single book on Sylvan’s history from the library. Did he ever return them?
Iris’s eyebrows twitch as she watches me, her head tilting ever so slightly. “You have a warm spirit, darling,” she says. “But something troubles you.”
I don’t know what she sees in me. Is it within my gaze? My posture? My touch? I push my shoulders back. “I think we all have things that trouble us nowadays.”
“Indeed,” she sighs. “Though I sense it is a different kind of trouble.” I don’t answer her as I begin wrapping her hands in fresh bandages.
There is an endless number of things that pick at my mind.
All the possibilities of what could be happening back home in Sylvan right now.
The images of Dunsmoor’s body with a poker protruding through his back that still flash in my mind.
The endless questions I wish I could ask my mother, only to be followed by the endless questions I wish I could ask my brother.
The secrets I carry with me. The lies I’ve spilled to Silas, the kiss with Rylan. One thing doesn’t trouble me—many do.